


Why on earth would MI6 think it is a good idea to send 007 and Q on a road trip?

by theflyingdalek



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Road Trip, but this might be funny, tiffany is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflyingdalek/pseuds/theflyingdalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four hours in a car with James Bond. </p><p>Things could be worse. Q wasn't exactly sure how they could be worse, but he figured that the double-oh did.</p><p>"This is the most stupid and ridiculous thing I have ever done", Bond complained from the passenger seat, as if on cue.</p><p>Okay. So maybe things couldn't be worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I cannot believe we are driving all the way there", James Bond complained.

"If you need my expertise, Bond, you have to deal with the driving. I don't like flying."

"So I've heard."

Q watched as Bond loaded the rest of the equipment into his black Jeep. As soon as the agent finished, he stuck his hand out for the keys.

"Nope", Q said cheerfully, "I have first shift. My car, my rules."

James Bond's eyebrows shot up.

"This is _your_ Jeep?", he asked incredulously.

"Yes, double oh seven, this is my car. What of it?", Q replied with a frown.

"You don't seem like the type to drive a Jeep", Bond answered with a condescending smile.

"Shut up and get in the car."

Q mentally cursed. They hadn't even gotten on the road yet, and he and Bond were _already_ bickering. This was going to be the longest road trip ever.

Four hours in a car with James Bond. 

Things could be worse. Q wasn't exactly sure how they could be worse, but he figured that the double-oh did.

"This is the most stupid and ridiculous thing I have ever done", Bond complained from the passenger seat, as if on cue.

Okay. So maybe things couldn't be worse. Q started the engine and looked over to see 007 glaring at the car radio as if it was taking all of his willpower to not fiddle with the damn machine.

"No", Q warned.

Bond just growled, but Q didn't look away from road. Instead, they sat in silence for a bit. 

"Please?", Bond asked.

Q blinked in surprise. Bond didn't tend to ask for permission, and to tell the truth, Q was surprised that Bond hadn't already switched the radio on.

"Depends what you want to listen to", Q replied primly.

Apparently, Bond took that as an OK, because the man flipped open the glove compartment and was now rummaging through Q's CD collection. Q hadn't meant for Bond to find his CD collection, and his ears were turning a nice shade of pink as Bond began to chuckle.

"Shut up", Q groaned.

"I didn't know that your taste in music was so _eclectic_ , Q", Bond replied cheerfully.

"Half of those are my sister's!", Q exclaimed.

"I'm sure", Bond hummed in reply.

"Just pick something and put me out of my silent misery!"

Bond slipped a CD out of the sleeve and popped it into the player. 

_That bastard_.

Q mentally swore as Olivia Newton John's "Hopelessly Devoted to You" began to play.

"Do you make heartbreak mix tapes? Or are you a Broadway fan at heart?", Bond asked.

It took all of Q's will power to not turn the car around right then and there and go home.


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah. There was something worse than four hours in a car with James Bond. There was getting two flat tires in the middle of nowhere. Also, it was raining.

"Can't you _do_ anything about this?", Q asked, feeling rather frustrated.

007 was underneath the Jeep and swore.

"Yes, I am _attempting_ to do something right now, Q. But as it happens, you have _two_ flat tires and _one_ spare tire. No matter what my dossier says, I am not a miracle worker."

Q stifled a groan.

"So what are we going to do?"

"No auto shop owner with a right mind would be open at this time of day, so I suggest you calm down. Your spare and flat will get us to the next town, where we can stay the night, and grab some food", Bond sighed.

"Why does the world hate me?!", Q growled not a bit overdramatically.

"And maybe a drink", Bond added.

Bond was right, they got to the next town safely and the agent unloaded Q in a tiny motel room to dry off, as 007 ran off to do some quick safety surveillance. 

"Fucking agents", Q muttered.

Q had checked them in, so he opted for booking one room, but as a very wet James Bond stalked into the room and peeled off his shirt, Q decided that it may not have been the greatest idea. Q stared at the ugly carpet until he was pelted in the back of the head with a dry dress shirt.

"Rule number one: always bring spare clothes when going on a mission.", Bond stated.

"Well, now I can tell my mother that I learned something new", Q replied dryly.

Q retreated into the tiny bathroom to change, very obviously ignoring Bond's chuckle. When he emerged, James Bond was redressed in a set of dry clothing. He looked pretty much the same as always, while Q was pretty sure that he looked like he had been hit by a train and a leaky water hose. Q _hated_ it when his hair was wet, but of course wet hair just made James Bond look even more devastatingly handsome. 

God, Q hated James Bond with a passion.  
"There's a bar two buildings down", Bond announced.

"I thought you were doing surveillance."

"Surveillance includes gathering pertinent information", Bond replied.

"Alright. Alcohol. Definitely a good idea. I could use some alcohol right now.", Q answered.

Bond paused by the door and flashed Q a smarmy grin before offering him his arm. 

Q responded with his iciest glare. Yes, alcohol sounded like a _very_ good idea.


	3. Chapter 3

For such an empty looking town, the bar was surprisingly busy. It was a rather ugly bar, as bars go, with garish light fixtures braided all around the walls. Music blasted a little too loudly in the background. Bond didn't waste time getting them drinks and a table.

Everyone in MI6 knew Bond's drink order, the infamous martini which had been named after his dramatic love affair with _the_ Vesper, but as Q sipped his Sapphire and tonic, he wondered how on earth Bond knew _his_ drink order.

The rather terrible choice in music blared loudly in the background. 

"You have a girly taste in drinks, Q", Bond commented loudly.

"I would ask you how you know my taste in drinks, but frankly, I don't want to know", Q shouted back.

Bond simply grinned his trademark grin, which _really_ shouldn't work on Q, but apparently did, as Q could feel a slow blush creeping up his neck. Q downed the rest of his drink. Maybe he could blame the blush on the alcohol. That seemed like a good idea. Bond disappeared to grab another round. 

"You look nervous."

Q spun around to see an extremely attractive man around his age smirking at him. 

Q simply raised his eyebrows in reply.

"If you want to lose your date..." the man offered.

And suddenly there were arms protectively wrapping around his waist.

"He's taken", Bond growled.

The man raised his hands to show that he was backing off.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I guess you're into that sort of thing."

Q turned around to look at Bond, whose eyes were training an incredibly deadly glare on the intruder.

"I guess I am", Q murmured, playing along.

Once the man left, Q spun around completely to train his own glare at Bond.

"Really? Territorial much?"

And Bond didn't even have the decency to look sheepish.

"He was a threat."

"Right," Q replied, rolling his eyes.

Bond answered by presenting Q with another drink

"You can't ignore your budding romantic feelings for me by throwing alcohol at the problem", Q teased.

Bond simply grunted before taking a long pull from his drink. He muttered something under his breath that sounded dangerously like "Like hell, I can't."

A few hours later, they were both completely slammed. And by slammed, Q meant, Q was incredibly drunk while Bond just seemed a bit tipsy. Which couldn't possibly be right, because Bond drank just as much as Q had. At this point, Q was having a bit of trouble walking, which Q would normally find horribly embarrassing, but Bond had taken it upon himself to wrap an arm around Q to support him, and Q was feeling too damned comfortable to feel awkward. 

Of course, _being_ awkward was a completely different story. Q learned this quickly, when Bond had attempted to prop him against the wall to unlock the door, and Q ended up clinging onto his arm like a very drunk sorority girl. 

"Q," Bond whispered, "I need you to let go of my arm."

Q let go of Bond's arm. Bond snorted lightly and went to open the door and do a quick safety sweep of the room before going back outside an collecting Q. 

"You are a lightweight," Bond commented.

"Shut up."

"Make me," Bond laughed.

So Q clumsily pressed his lips against James freaking Bond's. Whoops. Well, no one could say that he wasn't hammered. Q pulled back awkwardly and attempted to make his way... well anywhere, but stumbled. Of course, Bond leapt to the rescue and caught Q like a wilting maiden.

"Can't have you tripping and hitting sharp furniture edges, Q", Bond whispered softly.

This time, when Q kissed Bond, Bond kissed back. Fervently. After a few moments of heated sloppy kissing, Bond pulled back

" _Q_ , I'm _really_ not that much of a gentleman. If you keep pushing, I'm not going to stop you."

"Then stop stopping me", Q murmured back.

"I'm a terrible person", Bond whispered to himself before helping Q with the _very_ difficult buttons on Bond's shirt.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Q woke up and rolled over drowsily. He had a splitting headache and the tiny beam of light sneaking through the curtains felt like the bane of his existence. He grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and put them on.

Memories of last night hit him like train.

Oh. Shit.

Q quickly looked around the room, but Bond was nowhere to be seen, not that Q was really expecting him to stick around. Then again, where the hell had the agent gone? It wasn't like he could have made off without him. That was the whole point of the road trip in the first place, Bond needed Q for a mission. And it wasn't like Bond at all to forgo his responsibilities. 

The door slammed open and a very wet James Bond stumbled in with a tray of coffee in his hand.

This would be interesting.

"You're awake," Bond commented.

No shit.

"You have coffee."

Bond set the coffee down on the dining table, well out of reach from the bed, to Q's annoyance. But then Bond started stripping out of his wet shirt. Oh. Q was suddenly a lot less irritated. Bond stalked over to grab a towel, bringing a paper coffee cup to Q on his way. Okay, Q was no longer irritated. Coffee. Delicious coffee.

"I went to get the car fixed," Bond grunted.

"Thanks," Q mumbled.

"We should get on the road soon," Bond added.

"Right."

Q quickly made his way out of bed.

"Time for a shower?" he asked.

"If it's a fast one," Bond called back.

Q undressed and jumped into the tiny motel shower stall. The hot water felt like heaven, but he was in a rush, so he didn't take the time to savor it. Soap. Rinse. Water off. Towel. Clothes.

When Q stepped out of the bathroom, he was surprised to see Bond awkwardly standing next to the door with a picnic basket on his arm. Q couldn't remember ever seeing James Bond looking uncomfortable, but the agent definitely looked a bit pale.

"Hello," Q said, for lack of finding anything else to say.

Bond smiled at that and seemed to revert back to his normal self.

"I grabbed some lunch," he explained, gesturing at the basket.

"Oh. My. God. Is that a picnic?" Q asked, trying his damned hardest not to laugh.

The agent's eyebrows furrowed.

"What's wrong with a picnic?"

Q raised his eyebrows.

"It's just.... You're not used to being romantic, are you?" Q asked, failing to keep the humor out his voice.

"I'm _very_ romantic," Bond corrected sternly.

"I mean... in a normal, non spy-related, sense."

Bond didn't say anything in return, and Q was starting to think that he had said something wrong, when Bond calmly set the picnic basket on the floor and walked up to Q, picking him up and lightly slamming him against the wall with a kiss.

"This romantic enough for you?" Bond asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Shut up," Q replied before he began to kiss Bond back with fervor. They were going to be late to the mission anyway, how much trouble could MI6 _really_ get into in a couple of hours?


End file.
